X/Twisted
by Meia
Summary: Subaru is 24. Seishirou is 33. Following the echoes of that which might have been...
1. 1/Twisted: Meetings

  
This is just a random look at how things *could* have turned out, if various things happened differently... Currently, the main difference is that the Bet never happened. Hokuto is still dead, but it wasn't Sei-chan's fault, and Sei-chan isn't a psychotic bastard. Of course, his psychotic bastardness in canon is also a debatable point. The title was borrowed from an excellent AU FF7 fanfic, actually, I think it was almost the /first/ fanfic I ever read, and I've lost the URL. Drat.  
  
Apologies if the characters are OOC. I'm not a very good writer, and anyway, I don't really know /how/ Subaru would be like... I mean, his twin /is/ dead, even without the added emotional angst of his loved one having killed her. I'm making him act like how he seems in X, just, well, giving him a spine. WithASpine!Subaru appears to be a very popular recent innovation. Or something.  
  
This is about a year before X, and is going to hit the X storyline, with my own little changes, of course...   
  
The pairing of this 'fic is, for now, Seishirou/Subaru, and maybe more will be added once the X storyline is fit in. But no lemon. I can't write lemons for the life of me. Although, truth be told, I have a completed little lime scene on my HD, which is going into Twisted canon. A long, long way from now.  
  
This fanfic is basically a way for me to play with Subaru/Seishirou character interactions. But at least it's fun. And now it comes in nice plain formatting and with a /second chapter/ attached. Apologies to the people who may have waited six months for this, I have an excuse, really, I do. ^^;x   
  
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1/Twisted: Meetings  
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Blood-red petals--what remained of the Sakura's latest prey--swirled as a sudden gust of wind rocked the tree, and Seishirou put a steadying hand onto the limb he was currently sitting on, feeling his blood-slick glove slide against the rough bark of the Sakura, leaving a crimson smear against dark brown.  
  
Blood was so pretty.  
  
The wind came by again, compromising his already precarious position, and the assassin decided to shift to the trunk of the Sakura--The branches were thickest there, and the footing most secure. Not that he thought it was likely for him to fall, of course, and not that such a fall would hurt him in the least, but...  
  
Caution was something he had learned early in his line of work.  
  
As he got to his feet, years of practice lending steadiness to his movements, he felt... -something- touching at the edge of his awareness. Somebody was close--very close--and he hadn't heard anybody approaching.  
  
Odd. Very odd.  
  
And what was odd was unknown, and what was unknown was, of course, dangerous. Reaching into his coat, Seishirou carefully drew out a small stack of ofuda, black cards with symbols painted on them in thin, elegant white. Keying them with a single murmured command, he willed the Sakura to bend its obscuring branches aside, allowing him view of the park grounds. He tilted his head downwards, curious, looking...  
  
...into a pair of stunningly tinted, emerald green eyes.  
  
Surprised, Seishirou let the treacherous wind tear the ofuda from his fingers, not caring as it whipped the power focuses to join a merry, contrasting dance with Sakura petals.  
  
The stranger held his gaze for a moment longer, before sliding green eyes shut, and gracefully lifting a hand. With a noiseless flutter, one of the cards settled into his palm, sharp edges cutting slightly into the skin, but without drawing blood. He held the card out to Seishirou, not offering challenge in either gaze or posture... Only silent enquiry.  
  
Nimbly, Seishirou stepped from the branch he was perched on to the petal-littered grass. Reaching out a gloved hand, he took--not the card, but the stranger's wrist, pulling him closer to himself. The stranger didn't struggle, although his pulse quickened and his eyes widened slightly--almost imperceptively. Apart from that, however, he could have been a statue, neither pulling away, nor leaning closer into Seishirou's almost-embrace.   
  
With the touch, Seishirou felt for the first time the threads of power which ran through the stranger, showing white-hot to his mind. The fine strands of light had crisp outlines, so bright that they were almost blinding, and they pulsed in time to the stranger's heartbeat. They told of skill and control over the raw magic within him, much more than Seishirou could ever hope to have...  
  
Interesting.   
  
Lowering his head, Seishirou took the ofuda in his mouth, being careful not to cut himself on the edges. Still gripping the stranger's wrist in a tight, although not crushing hold, he absently replaced the card in his coat.   
  
/Your move./  
  
With a gentle tug, the stranger freed himself, taking a small step backwards. He was really quite attractive... Seishirou mused, young--probably in his early twenties, with a careless, elegant grace etched into his slender form. Short, rakishly messed hair framed a face which was almost feminine, pixie-like and ageless, and...  
  
...His eyes, green, deep green, sea green eyes...  
  
The young man touched two fingers to the blood Seishirou had left on his wrist with something akin to fascination. For the first time, Seishirou saw a set of thin lines cutting neatly across the vein, long healed over, although the blood made it look as though the old wounds had reopened.   
  
The stranger ignored Seishirou's gaze, cupping his hands as a sakura petal drifted down, staring with a distracted air at the delicate, blood-red flower, and sheltering it from the wind. The stranger somehow seemed to understand the significance of the crimsoned petals, and his green eyes darkened.  
  
"Who?"   
  
His voice was cool and light, quiet, tinged with shifting inflections, carrying a wealth of emotion in the single syllable. For a moment, Seishirou contemplated deliberately misunderstanding, or giving his own name, but...  
  
...No, somehow, the thought of lying seemed distasteful to him. Strange--He had never had that problem before, considering that his entire life in itself, was a lie.  
  
"Does it matter?" he replied, tilting his head and watching the young man.  
  
The stranger paused, considering the question. "Yes," he said, finally, "Yes, it does. Everybody deserves to be remembered, after all."  
  
"Even the people who do wrong?" Seishirou challenged.  
  
"Especially the people who do wrong."  
  
Seishirou raised an eyebrow, then smiled lazily. "So..."  
  
"...Would you like to be remembered?"  
  
He watched the stranger with half-lidded eyes, knowing that the implication in his question would not go by unnoticed. A wry almost-smile crossed the stranger's features for a moment, although his voice was as serious as before.   
  
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." he said noncommitally, shrugging.  
  
Seishirou's smile widened.   
  
"I /could/ kill you now, if I wanted to," the assassin said almost cheerfully, as though threatening random people with death was a common occurence for him.  
  
Well, it /was/... But they weren't random, and he didn't just threaten.  
  
The stranger was not intimidated.   
  
"You could," he murmured. "You may."  
  
The unexpected reply drew a chuckle. "And why would I need your permission to do such a thing?"  
  
"Whether you need my permission or not is irrelevant. The fact remains that you already have it."   
  
Seishirou raised an eyebrow. Either the young man was crazy, a master at twisting words, or... he was telling the truth.  
  
Intriguing.  
  
The stranger wasn't finished, however.  
  
"You may, but you won't."  
  
The conviction in the green-eyed young man's voice made Seishirou chuckle again. "And why not?"  
  
"Because my death would serve no purpose, and because you don't seem like the type to do things without a purpose."  
  
"You're right," Seishirou murmured. "I'm not. But keeping my existence a secret would be purpose enough, wouldn't it?"   
  
It was the stranger's turn to laugh this time, as he flicked his wrist and produced a single, pure white card with an upright star painted on it. The wind whipped it away, as it had Seishirou's own ofuda earlier, and Seishirou caught it casually.   
  
/Sumeragi./  
  
That explained a lot.  
  
"Keeping your existence a secret, from a person whose family has always known of your clan?"   
  
Seishirou shrugged, then smiled cheerfully. "I suppose that would serve no purpose, would it? What's your name, then, Sumeragi-kun?"  
  
"Subaru," the stranger replied. "Call me Subaru."   
  
Subaru... the 13th Head of the Sumeragi Clan, just as he was the 13th Sakurazukamori of his own.   
  
"Then you should call me Seishirou," he offered, deciding not to extend his hand to the Sumeragi--his gloves /were/, after all, still covered in blood...  
  
Seishirou smirked. This might turn out interesting--the Sakurazukamori might not be allowed very many feelings, but boredom was one of them, and he found that both his jobs did nothing to alleviate that...  
  
Hopefully, Subaru would.  
  
/Really, now.../ he thought to himself. /You're getting much too old to be playing with toys.../  
  
Amused by that thought, Seishirou drew a bright smile across his face, and turned to the other onmyouji.   
  
"So, Subaru-kun..."  
  
"...Want to go for ice cream?"  
  
  



	2. 2/Twisted: Smoke

  
...Ta-daa. Chapter two. *piku piku* It didn't /really/ take me six months to do, I sort of wrote the first bit way back in December or January or somesuch, which is why I'm not very happy with it, and then finish the rest over the course of the month of May. And yes, I'm only posting it now. ^^;x   
  
Many, many thanks to Flamebyrd. Now, enjoy. Chapter notes follow.  
  
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Subaru blinked. The Sakurazukamori, cold-blooded, heartless assasin, the embodiment of dark onmyoujitsu...  
  
...Was inviting him for ice cream?   
  
The transition from the note of carefully controlled, tight-rope walking danger that the conversation had held to its incongruous ending threw him off-balance, and he found himself entirely not knowing how to respond to the other. For his part, Seishirou was smiling at him cheerfully, no hint of the earlier predatory look in his eyes--and if Subaru didn't know better, he might have convinced himself that he had been imagining things, earlier.   
  
For a moment, he was tempted to accept the offer--after all, if the assassin wanted him dead, he would be dead, without anything fancy involving ice-cream.   
  
His mind threw him a memory of a slip of paper and neat fax from his grandmother, however--and a quick glance at his watch showed that if he didn't leave /now/, he was going to be late for his job. He offered Seishirou an apologetic look. "Sorry, but I have work to do... Maybe some other time."  
  
The phrase was more polite lip-service than an actual promise, since Subaru quite fully expected never to see the assassin again. Seishirou's expression, however, didn't shift from its pleasant smile.   
  
"I'll look forward to it, Subaru-kun," he replied, no hint in his voice to indicate whether or not he was serious.  
  
Subaru left, idly considering the lies people told under the cover of tact and social order, and didn't look back--nor did he notice the cry which sounded above him, a harsh, proud scream, like that of an eagle...  
  
...Or Shikigami.  
  
  
  
He made it to the place of appointment without much mishap, and was even on time. The apartment wasn't large, by any standards, although it wasn't small, either. 'Homey', he supposed, was the word that most would use. He was greeted at the door by a worried face--a lady who might have been beautiful once, long since gone to crows' feet and smile lines.  
  
"I'm Sumeragi Subaru," he introduced himself. "Is Mitsuki-san in?"   
  
The lady relaxed and opened the door fully, smiling. "That would be me," she said, indicating that he should come in. "Thank you for coming at such short notice, Sumeragi-san."  
  
"Subaru," he corrected her, absently, as he followed her down a short hallway and into what was presumably a living room. "Just--Subaru. Please."  
  
"Subaru-san, then. Can I offer you anything to drink?"  
  
Subaru declined politely, looking around the room. There wasn't much--somewhat like the living room at his own place, most of what it held consisted of a sofa, a coffee table, and a family altar burning at a corner.   
  
"I understand that you and your daughter have been suffering similar nightmares for a few weeks?" Subaru asked, mentally going over the fax his grandmother had sent him.   
  
She nodded.   
  
"Have you any idea what might have triggered it? Any unusual happenings, just before that? Ah... death in the family?"  
  
Mitsuki shook her head, 'no'. Unlikely that it was a ghost, then, although the possibility couldn't quite be eliminated. A wandering spirit, perhaps... He thanked her quietly, kneeling on the floor to begin his search.  
  
There was, after all, work to be done.  
  
Subaru closed his eyes and raised his hand before his face in a two fingered gesture.   
  
It wasn't magic, but perhaps it was close.  
  
To see the world through the eyes of another--  
  
--/Through the eyes of a Shikigami/--  
  
In his mind, the room was a flat, colourless plane--the way a crow would view it. His spirit bird whispered to him, as he watched... a dry, dusty murmur as familiar to him as his own voice. It spoke in a tongue he did not recognize, yet somehow understood, as it always did--  
  
/Look./ it whispered. /See. Watch. Have patience--not the patience of the hunter, but the patience of one to whom all things eventually go, as long as one has patience, and watches, and waits.../  
  
Subaru watched.  
  
/Look. Listen. There is nothing here, but what you wait for, what you watch for, you will find.../  
  
Mitsuki-san was a brighter spot in a sea of greys, lit not by spiritual energy, but by the simple fact that she was alive. He 'saw' her looking, wondering, and watching, but she was not what he was searching for. He moved on.  
  
/Watch, and wait--see yourself, see yourself in your reflection of reality--/  
  
Still, the images came, as he went over the room nearly inch by inch, linked with his spirit bird.  
  
/There,/ satisfaction overlaid its century old voice like a mask.   
  
/Do you see it?/  
  
He saw it.   
  
Subaru melded further with his Shikigami's mind, examining the place it had pointed out carefully. /Something/ was wrong there, something dark and tainted--  
  
He thought he recognized it.  
  
/Many types of spiritual being exist--some are harmless, but some are not. One of the less common types you might come across are the gaki, which feed on anything from music and emotion, to flesh and blood and souls./  
  
A memory of a lesson from a long ago time, in the rich, scratchy voice of his grandmother--  
  
/They can take on human forms, if they wish, but they are, naturally, far less noticeable--they can look like the mist which lies low over graves, or the darkness that rises from a fire--/  
  
--Or the innocuous smoke curling up from an a stick of incense at an altar, which he only just realised was unlit--  
  
Subaru opened his eyes and was momentarily disorientated, as the world flickered in and out of colour, a kaleidescope of warm browns and creams in one second, and flat grey in another. He saw what he thought was a glimpse of himself, diaphonous and far away, as though he were looking at a mirror through a shroud...  
  
Then he blinked, and his Shikigami went back to its place at the back of his mind, and everything began to make sense again. Standing up, he made his way towards the room, ignoring the mild complaint from his slightly cramped legs. Subaru sank to a cross-legged position in front of the altar, pulled his ceremonial knife from his belt and placed it on the floor.  
  
Curiously, he held a hand towards the stick of incense--it was cool, even to his direct touch, despite the smoke that curled up from it. Ash flaked onto his fingers, soft and gray and lightly sandalwood scented.  
  
He traced the symbol of his family onto the altar using the ash, an upright star that glowed faintly once the pattern was completed. Mitsuki-san was standing at the edge of his vision--he ignored her again, putting his hands together, twisted and locked in a pose so familiar to him. The smoke turned dark and twisted in the air, as though a breeze had caught hold of it, whipping the grey column about without making it dissipate.  
  
He drew a handful of ofuda, holding them fanned between his fingers--five, to correspond with the five points of a star--  
  
--to contain--  
  
"On."  
  
--to bind--  
  
"On, battarei-ya sowaka."  
  
--to seal--  
  
The ancient syllables came to him with the ease of long practice, focusing his will and channeling it to his purpose.   
  
--to expel--  
  
And occasionally--  
  
--to destroy--  
  
The star marked out in ash flared suddenly, echoing the glow of the pristine white cards that he held. Subaru continued to chant, altering rhythm and cadence under the direction of his own intuition and the dry voice at the back of his head.  
  
He threw the ofuda with a flick, letting them settle into their positions around the altar--  
  
/A flash of grey and white and hunger--not mindless, not malicious, just longing, like everything that had ever lived, to stay alive.../  
  
A low keen filled the room, plaintive and grating. There was nothing 'natural' about the smoke now--it thrashed wildly against the confines of the ward set against it, battering at the faintly blue outline of its prison.  
  
Some spirits, he could coax back to their rightful plane--the further threshold of the realms of the dead. Some, he could exorcise, giving them the peace that they didn't know they craved.   
  
Some, however--the ones who hovered between this realm and the next, living, yet not alive--he could do nothing for.  
  
And some, like this one, with its dreams of pain and blood, he did not dare let exist.  
  
Subaru balanced the power holding the ward together carefully, and drew his dagger.  
  
He didn't use words, this time--didn't need them, as he carefully wove threads of magic with his will, keying the almost tangible force to another focus-card and the ceremonial knife he held. The struggles of the spirit became more pronounced, as it flung itself against the walls of barrier holding it, gone from flickering blue to deep, clear cerulean.   
  
He poured more power into the five points that anchored the kekkai, reinforcing weak spots caused by the crazed pounding of the gaki, even as he continued constructing the tapestry of power that was beginning to surround his dagger.  
  
It wasn't /easy/, to destroy a spirit--how was one to kill something which had never been alive, after all?  
  
It wasn't easy, nor was it done often--but it was still possible.  
  
The plain-hilted knife was beginning to glow, even to ordinary vision. To his Shikigami, it was a mass of bright thread in the shape of a knife, like a cocoon--shifting and somehow alive, almost sentient in its purpose. The gaki had settled down somewhat, occasionally still testing the strength of the walls that surrounded it--  
  
He put the knife down and raised his hands to begin his next spell.  
  
The spirit regarded him warily from within its confines. The air became still, like the calm which heralded a storm, crackling with energy as yet unspent, to be released of its own will, and none other--  
  
Subaru harnessed that power, concentrating--  
  
--And without warning, the spirit struck--  
  
The wards shattered, the power they had contained draining abruptly--and the gaki was free.  
  
The storm broke.  
  
Subaru hastily threw a shield over Mitsuki--it wouldn't last long, not if the spirit was powerful enough to break through his kekkai, but it would buy a little time, at least.   
  
And that was, after all, the most important thing.   
  
He snatched the dagger up, holding it carelessly by the blade, which, against all reason, felt warm against his skin.  
  
/You want blood?/  
  
His grip tightened, and the metal bit into his palm--it hurt, a little, but that didn't matter. He let the parallel cuts bleed freely, transferring the dagger to his other hand.  
  
/I'll give you blood./  
  
The gaki turned, distracted. He didn't have enough power to spare for constructing a set of secondary shields over his own protections--and as it attacked, he found that he wouldn't have had the /time/.   
  
Subaru closed his eyes, trying to finish weaving his spell, part of his mind anticipating the pain of the spirit's strike--  
  
Something rustled.  
  
Something screamed.  
  
And the benign presence at the back of his mind stirred, and spread its wings...  
  
Spell completed, Subaru opened his eyes--and saw shadow fighting smoke, a shadow that winged away once it sensed his attention, leaving the path between him at the gaki clear.  
  
It lunged, again, but it was his turn to attack.   
  
The dagger hit the gaki and stuck fast, as though there was something solid behind the facade of smoke. Subaru jerked the knife to the side, with a sound of ripping cloth--drove it in further--  
  
The gaki shrieked--a sound of death, and not of defiance, like the scream that had sounded earlier. The edges of the figure blurred, diffusing as real smoke did, becoming thinner and lighter, bringing with it the scent of sandalwood mixed with decay--  
  
Then Subaru's dagger was abruptly lodged in nothing, the scream stopped, and the smoke continued to dissipate, until a sharp breeze chased it entirely from the room.  
  
  
  
Subaru watched the numbers displayed above the elevator controls click their slow way towards 'one', finally letting the doors slide open with a quiet beep once it reached the ground floor. He stepped out of the lift, hoped vaguely that it wasn't too late to catch a taxi, and stared at the ground as he made his way to the road.  
  
It was this that made him take some time to register the dark shape which not-quite blocked his way, leaning against the wall just out of his path. Subaru looked up.  
  
"Hello, Sakurazuka-san."  
  
"Seishirou," the other said. "Hello, Subaru-kun."  
  
The assassin's arms were crossed carelessly as he shifted into a more comfortable position against the wall, casting an odd shadow with the angle of the sun.   
  
An almost... eagle-shaped shadow.  
  
"That was your Shikigami, wasn't it?" Subaru asked quietly. Seishirou didn't reply, merely tilted his head in what Subaru supposed could pass as a nod, raising one loosely-fisted hand.  
  
It was as though part of Seishirou's shadow had detached itself and somehow transferred itself to his wrist--there was /something/ there, something misty, diaphonous, which resolved into--  
  
--An eagle, piercing bronze eyes looking directly into his own, wings mantled, claws gleaming, magnificent and beautiful and deadly.   
  
And his own Shikigami stirred further.  
  
Subaru held a cautious hand out to the eagle, which stared at him disdainfully for a while longer, before ducking its head and brushing it across the back of his hand.   
  
It felt odd--a little like velvet, a little like marble, and very, very cold, but the gesture made him smile slightly.   
  
"...Why did you send it?"   
  
"Because I wanted it to. Because it wanted to."  
  
He ran his fingers across the Shikigami's head, although it made his fingers slightly numb, and it let him.   
  
He supposed that this was how it felt, to touch a shadow.  
  
Seishirou was watching him--he took his attention off the eagle and returned that steady bronze gaze. The assassin flicked his wrist in a practiced movement, and silently, the eagle winged upwards--circling their heads once, and disappearing mid-air. Hands now free, Seishirou took his cigarettes out of his coat pocket, and lit one.  
  
He glanced over at Subaru questioningly, tapped another out of the box, and offered it to him.  
  
There was a long pause--  
  
And Subaru shrugged, then took it.  
  
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Yummy chewey chapter notes:   
  
The idea for Sei-chan to send his Shikigami came from Leareth, although the freaky psychedelic Subaru's-Shikigami thing was my tortured imagination.   
  
I made the magic up. /All/ of it. The only part I /didn't/ make up was the chant, which was from the OAV. X.x The gaki came from a long list of spirit-things-that-Subaru-can-fight, which was written up by me and Aine... ah... last year. Ehe.   
  
The /original/ ending of this chapter was /going/ to be Sei-chan cooking dinner for Subaru in Subaru's own apartment, because I had a wonderful mental image of Aproned!Sei-chan smiling up with that delightful innocent smirk as Subaru walks in through the door with both eyebrows raised.  
  
"Seishirou-san... locks are there for a reason."  
  
It was scrapped for being wierd, implausible, and since the point of the rewrite was to get things to go slower... yes. So instead, we get Sei-chan offering Subaru a cigarette, which is also a rather nice mental image, although I don't know whether or not it works. And remember, smoking is a bad habit.  
  
The Shikigami fascinate me, and I wanted to give them a bigger role. And Aine-chan encouraged that. So go and blame /her/, not me. I'm /also/ making up everything that involve the Shikigami, because so little about it is said in the manga. X.x And just so you know, Shikigami = the three-headed crow of Subaru's, or Sei-chan's eagle. And shikigami without a capital letter = those little bird-things that Subaru and Sei-chan make out of ofuda.  
  
This was a very long author's note. But anyway. This chapter took six months to do when I had a full idea of what was going to happen, I don't even know what will take place next chapter, so, uh... ^^;;;x  
  



	3. 3/Twisted: Flight

With love to Liz for the chapter subtitle and for proofreading. Nothing much to say here, really, except that I now have a cat in my head named Schroedinger. No, don't ask. /So/ not happy with this chapter, but I don't particularly want to touch it any more.  
  
Comments are nice. *niko*  
  
  
  
3/Twisted: Flight.  
  
  
  
The tree was calling.   
  
He could feel it, just as dark as the other presence in his mind--only, where one was soft ash and monochromatic feathers, /this/ was blood and death and a sort of patient hunger, dwelling at the outer edges of his awareness.   
  
Seishirou ignored it, keeping all of his attention on his patient, idly smoothing back the cat's fur and securing the bandage around its leg with practiced movements.  
  
"I expect that this'll teach you not to climb trees in the rain," he told it, a hint of good humour in his voice--the Siamese's only response was to blink sleepy blue eyes, and sneeze onto his hand. It ducked its head to sniff curiously at his fingers, then turned to survey the room, tail waving lazily.   
  
He wondered what it smelled. Old blood, perhaps, or maybe something else--who knew what caught a cat's fancy?   
  
Animals were sometimes just so much more perceptive than humans.  
  
He picked it up, supporting it easily in the crook of his arm. The cat only yawned and put up a token struggle, suffering without much complaint to be put inside its carrier, although it /did/ gift him with a disdainful glance.   
  
The sky outside had hours since gone dark, and the clinic was deserted. Absently, he lit a cigarette, giving his office a final once over as he stepped out of the door.   
  
Only a pair of luminous blue eyes met his gaze, unblinking and inscrutable--  
  
Who knew, indeed...  
  
  
Tokyo was a beautiful city from above, especially by night, Seishirou mused--rich with a vibrancy entirely its own, of electric streetlights and passing cars and semi-crowded streets. Almost like a painting, in its own way. A living painting, ultimately unreal even in its beauty, and ultimately, something he was not a part of.  
  
But that didn't make it any less beautiful.  
  
From his vantage point, the city was a sea of a million lights in shadow, blending into a vague glow along the horizon. Below him, he could hear the discordant hum of cars, mixed with the occasional, barely audible, human voice--sound carried at night, no matter how far away one might be standing.  
  
Or how high up.  
  
He was never quite sure just where he had acquired his taste for heights from. Not the tree, for certain. His Shikigami, perhaps--it was, after all, about the closest he could come to true flying...  
  
The end of his cigarette glowed as he took a drag, another spot of brightness against the dark.   
  
Closing his eyes, he exhaled.  
  
Smoke gathered, swirling, laced through with the power that gave it shape--  
  
And a misty eagle winged easily onto his wrist.  
  
"Good evening," he told it, politely. The Shikigami didn't reply, merely preening a single feather into place and looking up at him with golden-yellow eyes.  
  
"You want to start work, already?" he asked, dropping his cigarette onto the concrete in a careless gesture. It nodded, half-spreading its wings for balance, talons gripping his wrist with gentle, almost imperceptible, pressure.  
  
He could feel it, restlessly awake, somewhere at the edges of his consciousness--shifting impatience, underlaid with an almost tangible desire to fly--  
  
Yes, his Shikigami was most likely why he liked heights.  
  
The tree's power came easily to his calling and tasted, as it always did, of blood. The eagle took the offered focus-card and stood quietly on his wrist, waiting as he bound the beginnings of a spell to the slim ofuda.  
  
It looked up as he tied down the final threads of power, tightening its grip and spreading huge black wings.   
  
The Shikigami blinked once, deliberately--  
  
And launched itself into the air, guided only by magic and the rustling whispers of a Sakura tree.   
  
Black feathers blending into darkness, nearly invisible against the night sky, the only evidence it left of its passing was a single keening shriek, midair.  
  
But soon, even that faded.   
  
Seishirou stopped trying to follow the path of his Shikigami with normal vision, and glanced down, instead. The street below wasn't crowded by any of Tokyo's standards, but it wasn't quite what he'd call deserted, either--there were still cars passing along the road and people, couples mostly, walking down.  
  
Absently, he took his glasses off and slipped them into the pocket of his suit, pausing a moment as his fingers encountered the flat planes of his cigarette box. But... no, perhaps later.  
  
He drew his maboroshi around himself and took a final glance in the direction that the eagle had gone.  
  
It was a nice night.  
  
Seishirou decided to walk.   
  
It wasn't a long drop over the edge of the roof, and he landed easily--just a few feet from a passing stranger who stepped unconsciously out of his way.  
  
/Show off,/ the eagle murmured.   
  
He just laughed, and followed.   
  
The wind trailed chill fingers down his skin wherever it could, and toyed idly with his hair--he ignored it, just like the people he passed ignored /him/.  
  
He had long since become accustomed to the night.   
  
The illusion seemed to blur the world outside, drawing shadows into stark relief--a surreal reality/not-reality, tinted blood-dark within from the tree's power.  
  
But that was alright, because he had long since become accustomed to that, too.  
  
  
  
The Shikigami was waiting when he arrived, and it landed silently, ghost-like, on his shoulder once he came near. He was an area not quite familiar to him, having only passed by once or twice--just a row of small shops, entrances facing the road, most of them closed by this hour. One or two still showed signs of life, though, in the form of pale light streaming from behind closed doors and windows.  
  
His destination was one of those few, the faint illumination it offered soon swallowed by the night, made distinct by the kekkai that surrounded it--a blue shimmer of power that shifted in and out of focus, as though the ward had been set up improperly.  
  
It hadn't, though--as he came closer, a familiar piece of ofuda caught his eye. His own, drained entirely of power, and next to it, a similar yet entirely different card.   
  
White and black.   
  
The power he had woven into his focus-card hadn't been enough to break the shield, apparently, although it /had/ managed to knock out one of the cornerstones of the kekkai--  
  
Seishirou smiled and picked them both up.  
  
The kekkai resisted slightly as he pushed at it, stopping him short a few inches from the door itself. It was skillfully made, even in its weakness--a construct of five stars within a single star, each supporting and giving power to the next, still able to stand with one of its points gone.  
  
He whispered a few short syllables under the watchful eye of his Shikigami, the words so old that some of them didn't even have meaning any more...  
  
The ward melted away, and somewhere, four pieces of card fell to the ground.  
  
Bells tinkled lightly as he pushed the door open. Just another shop, hardly bigger than a single room--a bookstore from its appearance, a collection of old and used books on its shelves...  
  
And in the corner, a small stack of nondescript manuscripts that drew his eye with a power of their own, given none of the care they deserved but admittedly did not need--  
  
Ah.   
  
A young man looked up as he stepped in, abandoning the book he was bent over for the moment.  
  
"I'm afraid we're closed, sir..."  
  
"That's alright," he smiled, bringing his illusion together. "I'm not here to buy."  
  
  
  
  
Somewhere in Ueno Park, a Sakura tree was blooming.  
  
Pink flowers blanketed nearly every corner of the room, although they gave the books at the corner a narrow berth. It had been a simple kill, and now, almost nothing of the corpse remained, what little left of it soon disintegrating into sakura.  
  
He felt power stir, vaguely, somewhere far off--untamed magic, wild and raw, that rebounded blindly and left once it had killed.   
  
He was its target, and by that reason alone, he could feel it, see it, track it--  
  
Something struck.  
  
Something snapped.  
  
Something died--  
  
--And it settled back down, curling back into itself, spent.  
  
/Sakanagi./  
  
A slight breeze teased at the covering of petals, carrying a few to drift up and settle somewhere else--nothing special in itself, but in the maboroshi, where everything was controlled by him...  
  
He turned to meet dispassionate green eyes.  
  
"Oh. You."  
  
The Sumeragi didn't reply, studying the illusion with a sort of quiet curiosity and picking up a single petal to brush as its velvet softness.  
  
/Do you know why the petals are red?/  
  
"Does your family know you're out so late, Subaru-kun?"  
  
Subaru flicked his gaze up to him, raising an eyebrow slightly.  
  
"Does yours?"  
  
"I don't have one."  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
The other onmyouji dropped the pink slip with something that might have been a sigh, or just a breath.  
  
"He'd been warned, you know," Subaru said, no emotion in particular in his voice. "When he first took over this place, then when we found that he wasn't taking our warnings, and selling the books anyway. And the kekkai was set up for the backlash--"  
  
/But not to block the Sakurazukamori./  
  
"So he had."  
  
"No reproaches, Sumeragi-kun?" Seishirou continued, lightly, as his Shikigami tilted its head in birdlike curiosity. "Aren't you going to tell me what I should have done?"  
  
Subaru looked up at him again.  
  
"I'm not going to interfere with your work, Sakurazuka-san," he said.  
  
"Seishirou."  
  
"Think of it as thanks for you interfering in mine."  
  
Seishirou smiled.  
  
"Oh?"   
  
Subaru ignored him, idly leafing through one of the books in the corner.   
  
"My grandmother is going to be upset that I didn't retrieve any of these," he remarked.  
  
"Go ahead, Subaru-kun," Seishirou shrugged. "I'm not stopping you."  
  
Subaru looked at the manuscript again, before replacing it where it had been found.   
  
"No," he said thoughtfully. "I don't think I will."  
  
The spirit eagle on Seishirou's shoulder said something disapproving as he took out his cigarettes. He just shrugged and lit one, offering it to the other onmyouji, who took it, dangling it loosely between two fingers.  
  
"Thank you, but I'm afraid I have to go."  
  
"It was nice seeing you again, Subaru-kun."  
  
The Sumeragi raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Was it?" he asked, but before Seishirou could reply, he took a step back--and out--  
  
Into reality.  
  
The sakura petals were fading, wisping back into broken illusions and magic, leaving behind only the vague scent of honey and blood. Lighting another cigarette, he slipped his sunglasses back on, looking at the place where the Sumeragi had left from.  
  
His Shikigami was murmuring something at the back of his mind again, something about fate and tangled threads...  
  
But with a little effort, Seishirou ignored it. 


End file.
